


Lifeline - A Sectumsempra Rewrite

by Dracos_green_apple25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracos_green_apple25/pseuds/Dracos_green_apple25
Summary: Draco Malfoy is broken. And he's barely hanging on by a thread. He has no one; no one understands what he's going through. He's alone.Or is he?Maybe the one person, the person who is on the other side of the same coin as him, can save him.What if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy didn't have to hate each other forever?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 37





	Lifeline - A Sectumsempra Rewrite

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING 
> 
> this story deals heavily with su*cidal thoughts and actions. i wrote this story at 2 am one night after i had had a really terrible day. if you ever feel like you don't belong here, i want you to know that i care. i know, i know, we've never met, i have no idea who you are... but still. i really do care, and i need you to know that. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy this short story... i know it's strange, and i'm honestly kind of nervous to post it, and i seriously doubt anyone's going to even read it, but honestly? it doesn't really matter now, does it?

Draco Malfoy gasped for air, his hair flinging back miniscule water droplets as he pulled his face from the water. He gripped the sink, his already pale knuckles turning a ghostly white, his purplish veins standing out starkly through his marked wrists.

_What the fuck._ He sneered at his reflection in the splintered mirror above the still-running sink. _Get a hold of yourself._ He licked his rough lips, bringing the taste of salt to his mouth. He spat it out. _Crying. Pathetic. Malfoys. Don’t. Cry._

But Draco’s subconscious thoughts were not enough, and the blonde boy heaved a sob that he prayed wouldn’t reach the ears of the students in the corridors. If there were any, that is. It was supper at the Great Hall, and yet Draco was in the restroom, because he ran. He ran like a bloody coward.

The sight of Draco Lucius Malfoy staggering around the restroom, with the water streaming from the pipes still unnoticed, would be… a shock. There really isn’t any other way to put it. And that shock would stem from the single question of ‘why?’. Why would someone who had literally everything; a fortune, a well-respected name, his very own posse of Slytherins willing to abide by his every need… why would a person like _this_ be in such a state? This wasn’t some ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ bullshit. No, his billion-dollar worth made Draco very content.

And yet.

And yet, there he stood. Shaking like a pathetic little imbecile. _How utterly worthless._

Harry stood. And watched. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t shaking too. He watched Malfoy’s muscles spread beneath his thin white shirt, which was now practically see-through. He saw where the damp fabric stuck to the blonde’s skin.

Green eyes were attentively watching. Harry was standing there. Feeling. _But feeling what?_ That… that _mess_ was Malfoy. Arch-nemesis, rival, enemy, whatever. It didn’t really matter anymore, did it?

_Did it?_

Malfoy’s sleeves were rolled up. Harry could see. He could see the faint pinkish lines on the inside of Malfoy’s long arms. He could see the scars. All of them. The ones that were inside, too. But seeing Malfoy like this… seeing _anyone_ like this, really… it brought Harry back. Back to that quaint little family-sized home - no, house - at 4 Privet Drive. _Empathy_. That was what Harry Potter was feeling. For the first time, Harry was not being pitied over; he was witnessing someone else’s pain, not wallowing in his own. And it felt… _well, it felt_ … bad. Terrible, really. Because, as said, it brought Harry back.

If you visit 4 Privet Drive and go to the cupboard under the stairs, you will see pain. The air, thick with it. But the physical evidence will be there as well. Go through the door. Duck first. Stand up tall again. Now look. Look down. See the floor? The dusty old floorboards, worn from being paced over? Now crouch down, and squint your eyes so you can see those spots. The spots are a brown color, but then you see it’s really a faded red. And you recognize that texture, and suddenly you shudder. You leave the cupboard, but your mind is still there, the dried, peeling drops of blood on those dusty old floorboards still hazing over your vision.

You are later told that that very cupboard had been the home of Harry Potter. _Why, the famous Harry Potter!_ you think incredulously.You reason with yourself that you must have seen wrong. Harry Potter, the bright-eyed boy you had seen in the papers just that morning, would have no reason to… do whatever one would have to do to make those dirty stains appear. You shake your head, feeling disgusted with yourself. You reach into your pocket, and finger the piece of parchment that the scar-headed boy signed for you last week. It’s a small piece of paper torn from the _Daily Prophet_ , now with a signature scrawled messily over an old article about that disgusting Malfoy boy and his pathetic mother. A faint smile ghosts your lips, and you happily go about the rest of your day, forgetting about the cupboard and, in the back of your mind, wishing nothing but the worst for that Death Eater infested Malfoy family.

Draco froze. _Ah yes, here they come._ The hallucinations. But Draco wouldn’t fall for them. And of all the visions his mind could have splayed before him, it just had to be Potter, standing there in all his idiotic bespectacled glory. Stupid Potter, just a git with a whole bucket of luck, an endless bucket at that. Fucking disgusting, how easily everything came to that boy, it was. Draco swallowed. He wasn’t exactly one to talk, after all. He had been worth billions since he was in the womb. His mother cared for him enough, and his father… well, perhaps his father was where Draco went all wrong. _No. Stop twisting this. Don’t fucking blame this shit on Father._ Draco steeled himself and gripped the sink, stopping to nudge the tap closed. Silence fell. Breathing. Draco could hear breathing, a separate set of breaths that weren’t coming from within his own chest. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

Harry stepped forward. “Malfoy,” he said, and then his voice broke. And Draco _couldn’t fucking stand that_. Stupid Potter, with his stupid pity. _That’s probably all he knows_ , a small voice in the back of Draco’s head said. _Shut up_. He turned, and he broke. He fucking broke. Like a true Malfoy.

Harry was drenched in a blanket of white. It was a sharp contrast to the red he was so used to seeing. The innocent yet striking Gryffindor ruby, and the startling, sickening scarlet seeped into the floor of his old room. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached up his sturdy arms and gripped tightly the other boy. And _oh, Merlin,_ Draco wanted to push, he wanted to shout, he wanted to strike. He wanted to run to the lake and throw himself into the murky waters. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. And that brings back the question ‘why?’. Why can’t a person so messed up not go and do such a simple task? Because, Harry Potter. _It was always going to be Potter._ There was no way around it. Draco had tried, he had really and truly tried _oh so hard, oh so so damn hard_ … But it was done. He had fallen. When, he didn’t know. With a grunt, he tugged at the front of the dark haired boy’s robes, smirking at the garish Gryffindor crest emblazoned on the front. Lifting his eyes, he almost didn’t do it. But then he saw. He saw Potter’s sparkling emerald eyes, and the pain within them. And he knew, there was no turning back. He pressed his lips to the other boys, and it was so soft that for a moment Harry wasn’t sure if the touch was there at all. Harry pushed his lips to Malfoy’s with more force, and gasped when the blonde’s tongue seemed to beg for entrance. He granted it, and fell into a pit of bliss.

And Draco… if Draco had thought that his world was spinning before, _oh_ , was he wrong. _Now_ the world was spinning, whirling on its axis. But now it had a rhythm. Now, Draco’s world wasn’t hurtling out of control. The turns didn’t make him want to puke anymore. Now, he wanted to spin with every turn his world took, to dance with the flow of fate, and… _Potter. Oh, sweet Merlin, Potter_. Potter, who was just as broken as he was. No, that was Harry. _Harry_ was broken. Potter was gone, evaporated and dispelled from the mind of Draco Malfoy.

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry murmured as he clung to his lifeline. Draco had always fueled him. With hate, passion, lust… it didn’t matter. Not anymore. And it never would, not ever again.


End file.
